You ask why I am anxious, why i am depressed, let me list for you the reasons why:

Global warming
Melting glaciers
Heatwaves
Polar vertices
Category 6 hurricanes
F5 Tornadoes
Droughts
Desertification
Floods
Wild fires
Snowless winters
Ice free arctic
Antarctic ice shelf collapse
Greenland glacier melting
Perma forst thawing

Ocean warming
Ocean acidification
Coral bleaching
Sea level rising
Coastal erosion
Over fishing
Fisheries collapse
Plankton extinction
Fertilizer run offs
Chemical pollution
Raw sewage dumping
Red algae blooms
Vibrio explosions

Ozone layer depletion
Lack of fresh potable water
Acid rain
Top soil depletion
Dead soil
Deforestation
Banana palm tree cultivation
Evasive species
Overpopulation
Urban sprawl
Insect apocalypse
Animal extinction
Lower biodiversity
Bird apocalypse
Bee apocalypse
Bat apocalypse
Amphibian apocalypse

Aging nuclear power plants
Superfund sites
Radioactive contamination
Three mile island, Chernobyl, Fukushima
Endocrine disrupters
PBAs
Autism
***** count collapse
Effeminization of men

Noise pollution
Light pollution
Chronic stress
Diabetes
Metabolic diseases
Over eating
Obesity

Drug resistances
New and emerging diseases
Epidemics pandemics
Swine and bird flu
Genetic modification
Biotech tech
nano tech
Crispr
DNA
genetic testing
Designer babies
Aging population
Health care rising
Unaffordable medications
Uninsured
Medicare of all
Medical bankruptcy
Social security bankruptcy

Rise of terrorism
Rise of extremism
Far right
Alt right
Lack of education
Masculine identity crisis
Emasculation of men
Decline of boys
Rise of girls

Increasing depression and anxiety
Increase anxiety depression among young girls
Lack of human connection
Social isolation
Social awkwardness
Snowflake generation
Disintegration of the family
Suicides
Social media addiction
**** addiction
Drug addiction
Alcohol addiction

Lack of equality
Political corruption
Kleptocracy
Corporatocracy
Plutocracy
Oligarchy
New American aristocracy
Too big to fail
Privatize profits, socialize losses
Decline of democracy
Fascism
Terrorism
Religious extremism
Religious tension
Political divisiveness
National unity
Second American civil war
Helplessness of the common man

Big data
Data protection
Algorithms
Internet tracking
Lost of privacy
Artificial intelligence
Singularity
AI white collar job lost
AI automation
AI back office
Autonomous AI
5G supremacy
Quantum computer supremacy
Virtual reality
Augmented reality
Cybernetics
Chronophobia
Outsourcing
Off shoring
On shoring

Over education
Under employment
Skills gap
3rd world immigration
La reconquista
Cultural dilution
Status quo
Declining economies
Housing crisis
Housing cost
Homelessness
Illiteracy
Hunger
Unemployment
Full employment
Racism
Intolerance
Race relationships
Increasing crime
Student loans
Credit card debt
High mortgages
7 year car loans
Inverse yield curve
52 week high

Wars
Military interventions
Social uprisings
Dwindling resources
Resources conflicts
Rare earth metals
Depletion of helium
Peak oil
Fracking
Water wars
Climate refugees

Pass, people, pass
People pass my field of vision
Different people
Some smart, some dumb
Mostly people
Sometimes a dog
Sometimes a cat
A few birds here and there
But mostly people
Old people
Young people
Mostly disgusting people

People like the young people
Who go home to their disgusting houses
And their disgusting families
To eat their dinner
And after
(On some nights)
Mommy and daddy
Discuss politics
Over a bottle of red wine
While the TV soap operas cry
About a gangster's child or whatnot

The trees dance as I think
As I think about the young people
The disgusting young people
The trees dance as the people pass
Dance, trees, dance
Pass, people, pass

People like the old people
Who work at dead-end jobs
And those with non-dead-end jobs
The ones who legally buy alcohol and smokes
And pay disgusting bills
And pay off disgusting loans
And disgusting mortgages
While they drink their alcohol
While they smoke their cigarettes
And think about bills, loans, and mortgages
About politics and where they stand
About the gangster's child on TV
And they talk about the bills, loans, and mortgages
Politics too
To their wives or husbands or kids or selves
As the TV drones on about the gangster's child

The trees stand as I think
As I think about the old people
The disgusting old people
The trees stand as people pass
Stand, trees, stand
Pass, people, pass

every time i hear a poetess cite this subject i never think of Sappho, but i ought to, these are poetesses that really want the hetero realm to remain intact - it's heart-breaking to hear a woman say these words - you end up being the third party transformed into the second party and she the Echo to your momentarily engaged with Narcissus - the third party makes the frank gesture to compensate the open heart of the poetess... o.k., let's funk the **** like mimes touching invisible doors... an overly stimulated society in terms of *** when there are apparently too many people, or the evolutionary zenith fro category mammal to category insect is backfiring on us individually - and as science fiction predicted, we are telepathically ******* each other senseless, just like the aliens we've become on this planet, momentarily sober when an earthquake, a tsunami... a terrorist attack... otherwise there's been no attempt to for the military to become active dispersing a tsunami with bombs (Better Bombing Syria), or harnessing lightning (some sort of incubator magnet) - well, i have seen a girl get spat on in the face... you think i considered my mother being diagnosed as o.c.d. with help of specialists? i just get the feel for the place - not out of spite... the cats haven't had their nails clipped for a month... they're not petrified by the vacuum cleaner every day... they've become sort of abstract animate art... when the male castrato sings an opera before bedtime i become a nervous wreck... the beauty of the silence during the day, pretends to be a dog barking at night left out in the garden... even though he's inside on the windowsill in the toilet, and i'm on my windowsill in the bedroom smoking a cigarette.*

this poem just makes me think one thing:
so what's the problem
with female genital mutilation if
*** is nothing more than a conversation
between a mantis and her mate
rather than Zeus and Hera?
that's what it sounds like - ****'s sake -
i'm not that into Robert Frost
and Simon & Garfunkel to match-up
a counter argument for a need to talk in bed -
my grandparents slept like French kings -
each to his own separate beds -
one went to the other for the jelly-bean babies -
and when did the unrestrained
Oedipus complex become a debate on
mortgages with that famous: still living with
his mum - economics - not psychology -
the popularity of some theory always ends up
some macabre populist interpretation
by the better off, marginalisation of realism -
oh, here comes Sartre - you should ask him...
still living with my father -
and because of this i've made kangaroo jumps -
the atmosphere in the house is... serene...
the only female presence is a cat -
(she's away tending to her mother, another month
to glee in bliss) -
the house is cleaned only once a week, the food is made,
i just learned she could very well be diagnosed
with o.c.d. - does this look like Norman Bates
scenario to you? let me tell you, a woman with
o.c.d. can be worse than a woman with
h.i.v. - obviously i'm exaggerating -
i allow my father conversation about Irish fascists
on construction sites (foremen) - Irish fascists...
Irish fascists... leprechaun fascists... LEPRECHAUN FASCISTS!
she just tells him to keep it on the building site -
i'm more supportive of my end as homeless in a forest
than in a cosy home with a woman.

"So what can we do for you today?" he asks
My expression unwaveringly content as if wearing a mask
"A lobotomy!" I say with a half-subdued smile
The doctor says he hasn't "heard that one in a while"

Little does he know I am completely serious
And in just a few minutes we being to discuss
"Now why would you want a lobotomy?" he asks leaning in
After a deep breath, I'm all too eager to begin

No bills, no job, no expectations
No depressing lack of motivation
No world hunger, no homeless men
No fear, no stress, no depression

"No love" doc says, sensing I'm the romantic sort
"No heartbreak, cheating, or divorce" I snarkily retort
No lies, no betrayal, no used-to-be friends
No mortgages, no insurance, no trying to meet ends
No hopelessness, no emptiness, no what-ifs or regrets
No innocence or loss of it, no piling up debts
No 8 A.M. alarm, no "what's the point?"
No recurring pain in my left shoulder joint
No waking up from a dream and facing reality
No resenting myself, no one taking advantage of me
No broken sink, no "I'll deal with it later"
No bug problem, no blasting-bad-music neighbor
No thoughts, no feelings, no doing a thing
Just sit, breathe, and eat what the nurses bring
No voice in my head, no have to eat healthy
No "rest when I'm dead" or work 'til I'm wealthy
No final straw in my constant fight
To try to find reasons to keep living life
No fear of the future, no lies from the past
No more constant sadness, I finish at last

An empty silence falls over the moment
The doctor is thinking and his face starts to show it
And then he said something I'll never forget
"I guess you're right, let's get a date for it set"
Doc so strangely agreeing I suddenly hesitate
And before he says more, I can only say "wait…"
"Maybe not yet," I sheepishly say
Maybe there's hope, if even just a ray

I think about life then say "what the hell, why not?"
There may still be hope even if it's impossible to spot
But hoping for hope might be enough for me
To save my brain from a lobotomy
And if in a few years things still aren't going well
I guess I'll still just keep living because eh, what the hell

I paused the movie to hear the couple fighting outside.
She said "You haven't talked to me at all tonight!"
and he said "What?"

But I know what they really meant to say was "I get stupid when I see you and I don't know what to do about it."
Then she slapped him and ran back inside crying.
It was an awkward moment for me in someone else's life.

It made me think about the video on how penguins mate forever.
And about how we're not penguins and how monogamy makes promises like traps
And how the only thing we have in common with penguins
is that we give each other rocks
and that means I love you until the sun explodes.

And how?

How come penguins can get it more right than us?
They can't even fly.

And when I watched this kid clutch his face as he wondered what he did wrong,
I can't help but ******* hate
all the happy penguins for him.

You stupid penguins,
you all look like you're going to a fancy party all the time
you stupid penguins
you run like your pants are down
you stupid penguins
you're gonna have someone to sit on the couch with forever
and you can't even fly!

What happens when you realize your penguin lover is immature
and he overeats the fish
and he's always late to things?

What happens when you realize your she-penguin has really bad penguin depression and you don't know how to deal with it?

What happens when you realize you both met too early and now you're different penguins?

I'll tell you what happens.
They stay together.
You know why?
Because he gave her a ROCK.
That's why.
Because, to penguins
rocks mean more than mortgages
and wanting to go to Hawaii
and step children
and sprinklers
and school districts.
They can keep a marriage alive with some instincts
and a ******* egg to sit on.
PENGUINS
Stay together longer than 50% of any couple you've ever met

And they can't even fly!

But maybe a bird
that knows how to fall in love better than us
doesn't need to know how to do that.

Hi . . . This is about the kinds of people who work in corporate big money office buildings . . . Imagine them at lunchtime, how they interact and picture the scene in any . . .

Busy little bistro

Sharp - sharks - circle - the - pack
Pinstripe finned and eager
Snapping their snacks back with ease
Points to prove with nothing to lose  
No cracks in their creases
They're keen to return to the fray.
These boys play with girls
Aren't yet uncles with nieces
Just unproven throwaway pieces . . .
In shiny  . eat ***** . suited up . Chelsea boots
Bidding for ***** with cute looks and loot
Touting with confident ***** . . .
As mobile as their smart devices
Loose

Next . . . ?
And fresh from a mornings abuse
And fifteen years of fear . .
Beleaguered older shirts sit . .
Flogged dogs with weak barks
Parked packed into packs.
Tongue tied ties tied together
Safety is numbers
Get each others backs
These partially satisfied cats
Know today is NOT their day . .
That was yesterday . . .
Obliging lives and mortgages
The reasons why they stay

Passing Cabs cruise . . .
Seen it all before.
Sat in the back a high class *****
Glazed eyes glancing away  
From her play-away payday
Nibbles in the boardroom . .
Napkins . . for the dribbles
A working lunch for this Girl
Her money-shot a wrap without applause
Was just a  . . . pause  . . . between paws . .

Then Dora on reception
John, who minds the door
Evie in the IT room
Or dave . . who buffs the Marble
Sparkles glinting in the floor . .
And the guards . . who guard . . what exactly . . ?

All of this . . ? Networking . . !!!
Everybody's selling something
It doesn't quite stink
But it definitely smells
A little high

As time whiles by
Seems this
Is the state of our nation
And in this state
Defines our aspirations
And yes . . this state's a splinter
Taunting my imagination . . .
Do I stake my place within this game
Or sit in observation
Commentating on a race
Where human nature fakes it's place
Where people sit as players
Yet no one wears their own face

Reckless habbits destroy the dying chance for children.
Worthless yells wont be heard.
Because we shutndown our compassion.
Over eight hundread thousand mortgages,
Double the car payments,
Tripple tuition,
And end homeland security.
We shut down.
I **** you not we had to do it.
I can scream
I can say spending went to far.
But I wont get recalled
because my aid was furloughed.
Im a ***** an orange *****.
Ill kiss vetrens.
Ill find ways to  open
the gates I closed.
Im captain of this ship.
And I will fix anything that
Leaks with red tape.
Wait till october.
Because ill show you
who the teorist really are.
I want equality for every
minimum wage worker
in kentucky.  I need your vote for
2016.  My name Is independemce.
Im the ******* who couldnt
represent a bad ****.  Ill blame obama,
Ill fake my death before ever realizing
Ideals make ****** outcomes.
Your family will raise their family.
While my family pinches grapes off
of trees everyone else sweated for.
Ill promise people wine.  But im really
just a sour cup of juice.  Im your snivelling congressman.
And I had nothing to do with incompliance.
Im just trying to make a point.  And I still get paid even
when we pretend.

childhood
is full of once in a lifetime experiences.
it is full of smiling,
living in the moment,
not worrying about bills or mortgages,
or gas money or grocery shopping.
childhood
is something we always wanted to grow out of
moving away from our barbies and bionicles
and trading them in for make up and playboys.
even though, sometimes,
when heads were turned away,
we dug up our favorite plastic friends
just to see how they were doing in the darkness.
childhood
is something we always wanted to leave behind when we were children
become big adults
with our fancy clothing
happy homes
and lack of vegetables.
and yet we forget
that childhood
is, simply,
full of laughing.
and fully grown
i now live on the memory
of my sandbox sidekicks
and their laughter.

poetry isn't just for white people, Vivian
isn't a girl's name, and I will
wear these white jeans past Labor Day.
we forget that we could
touch the stars if we *******
tried, but instead we are
here, drowning in atmosphere,
choking on our inhibitions.
there are ten pills tucked
in the very back of your desk;
you love them but
they're about to become a
crutch, and you are frightened.
I don't **** with that
new ****,
but it's not like you care.
I'm still the same *******
idiot, total trash, I
deleted your number
and I won't send you
snapchats,
I wonder if you
deleted my dickpics.
lost intimacy, windowsill
cacti, a Ziplock full of ******* stuffed
inside your pillowcase;
I went for a run, your
name traipsing about my
prefrontal cortex, smashing
memories, beheading roosters,
screaming incoherently about
subprime mortgages and
credit derivatives.
the government is lying about
9/11 but no one really cares;
the government is arming oppressive regimes in
Missouri but white people don't care;
would that I had such
willful ignorance, the right to
ignore the slaughter on our
front lawns.
my parents started from the
bottom, they survived in
America, decapitated birds on the doorstep.
I do not have their strength and I am
washing Xanax down with Gatorade and
refusing to apologize.

she’ll turn into her mother
one day
you can see it in her eyes
hear it in her sighs

so let’s lie in each other’s arms
and forget about the world
not worry about children
or names or gender
not worry about mortgages
on our dream castle
holidays we can’t afford
friends
who aren’t really friends
relatives
we only talk to
because they are relatives

hostile family gatherings

this is the melody of love
a song sung only once
until it’s a
slightly remembered tune
we can only just about hum

The world changes around me but not as I sit perched,collecting memories and organizing them in my thoughts that sprout up through cracks as would a **** in concrete. A dandelion. Not you, a rose, like in Tupac's poem. And i digress because thats what I do more often than not. We speak of our impressionist dreams that are just alike, but not yet realized. Not a one. Well one or two but that's it. And that's only a tip of an iceberg. Which is us in danger of melting like the rest of the revolutionaries along with all the changes occuring around us. Will our love change right along with us  and everything else? how will it be to be forty and married? Would we be content? would you go search for him? If you found god would you be done with me. Would you declare me a heretic if I didn't go to church and let jesus live inside me along with the rest of my collectibles. If you found god, would I pretend to have as well so as to not lose you. Hopefully, and isn't that all we are, a sack full of fast foods, hope and regrets. Nothing will go south or sour! We can't let it! Our love will survive all the ******, gods, alcohol, ******, alleys, concrete basketball courts, blacks in the ghetto, american presidents, economic revolutions, rapists, murderers, taxes, mortgages and regime changes. My tongue, along with my eyes, along with my lips, along with my fingers, along with my hair, along with my hair,along with my grey matter, along with my heart, does truly believe we will love longer, harder, deeper, truer and out last, out live, out happy, out joy, out defeat, out wit everyone. I told the elders we don't bother to pray. But we dream very well and not in the real world, not in their world, but in our world. The one we created for ourselves to fly in and out of rain clouds and swim in black water thats flooded on the inside of parking garages. I want to tell you things in a way that can convey myself and still be understood fully. I'm not sure if it is possible to get a ride, convey,write or paint my mind, my soul, my heart properly enough. but if anyone could ever understand my sore joints, and dances with death,it'd be you right? Because we are the same. we have been drinking from the same cup. and been dealt the same ****** hand but at different games. you are the lotus on your wrist and I am the owl in my throat and it means everything yet nothing to everyone else's big scheme. and still everything to ours. you are the only one here who understands why I think rain puddles with oil in them are beautiful.

Zoom in to the human  few who view the world in rose-tinted shades,
graze upon their perspective and be at ease with the world.
We all look up at the same sky, we all walk the same planet,
but we do not drink the same water, we do not think of death
before we name our sons or daughters.
Smaller scale; we do not live in the same estate,
the same country or state, we do not care for the same debates.

ASBO's or petrol prices?
Knife crime or mortgages?
Employment crisis,
divisions divided,
some benefit in this state,
some need state benefits.

Standing separate...
we are not the same and when we are
we are still different to the desperate, the desolate.
We are not the same, we all look up at the same sky,
but not for the same reasons, we may seek lost relatives,
we do not pray for rain.
We all look up at the same sky but does it hurt you to know helpless people need not die?

In Ireland we had built a truly independent nation,
standing proud after years of strife and deprivation
But we yearned to join Europe, enticed by her charms,
and she was happy to welcome us, with open arms
Once we used to have pounds, shillings and pence,
when we joined Europe we adopted euros and cents,
We bought in to a single European currency,
and got loads of money, for everything a subsidy

Yes Europe proved to be extraordinarily generous,
the goose that kept laying golden eggs for us
Our government went mental with the money Europe kept sending,
it appeared this generosity was never ending
And our banks joined in with unprecedented lending,
we the people were happy, ah the money we were spending
We threw caution to the wind, it was pure insanity,
we paid ridiculous prices for even the smallest property

Mortgages and loans were given out like sweets,
credit cards with no limit for those occasional treats
Yes the borrowing and spending went on unabated,
sure why wouldn’t it, it was completely unregulated.
There was so much money, loans were so easy to get,
each one of us accumulated a serious amount of debt
Most of us were living way beyond our means,
had we sold our souls for a handful of beans?

Such was our success, other nations did applaud,
we bought new houses and cars and apartments abroad
Credit cards and loans bought so much other stuff,
one could be forgiven for thinking we could never have enough
We changed as a people, became quite materialistic,
we wanted so many things that were beyond realistic
we forgot what was important, which was really quite sad,
judging each other it seemed now by how much each had

This is what Dale Yeager- CEO "SERAPH -
The Problem Solving Company"
Says, There’s No Crime Here.
What do you think?

This man I want to help is my son’s father; we were many years out of touch with one another due to many reasons well beyond this situation; but it should be noted that this woman, the one in this, has had much to do with why he and I were not with one-other after 1991 and why the two of us are still not together today she’s also the reason he’s been out of touch with most of his family.
It’s in the later part of 2018 I found out about things which has have been going so wrong in his life. I have been in touch with his family but I always kept them off from talking of this man’s life to me; one day I was told of this man’s brake from his wonderfully close bonded family. They have learned recently his health has suddenly been doing quite poorly; one member even said they’re fearing this woman was setting to rid herself of him; I told them I’ve seen the Philly News about their boy, I didn’t think that boy did what was being said about him, not at all, and I’m going to look into it and see what I could find; and, this is what I found.
Within 5 years 6 months 19 days, from the day the words “I do” left this man’s mouth this woman has isolated him from most of his family and all of his friends, she places herself as his wife onto the deed of his house on March 12th.1993 a full 1 yr, 7 months, 16 days before their said wedding date; First thing being first is the actions and timing of the wedding; she tells his family to come on down, on October 28th.1994, for a big Halloween shindig?! Only once his family arrives they were then told one of the guest, a woman, was the mayor of their town and she’s to officiate on this day, it’s going to be their wedding day?! I looked up the Mayor of their town during that time and the mayor there was a man, a man who as of 2019 is still the mayor down there. His family was understandably perturbed, to say the least. not being told beforehand of it being a wedding as some hadn’t gone thinking it was nothing more than a Halloween gathering. This woman has had this man go through a chapter 7 in 18 and ½ months, a chapter 13 in just shy of 2 yrs, 2 months of that and then once again he’s gone right back into a chapter 7 in only 2 years 2 months, 17 days later??? She convinces this man to sign away his house, the home he has had built from blueprints, over to her first husband; her first husband who has by this time already been moved right into the house to live with them; Seven years afterwards this woman gets herself replaced onto the deed as an unmarried woman along with her first husband as an unmarried man who does all this 7 years, 10 months, 23 days to the day he took it away from Joe and without any financial considerations from her what so ever she’s on the deed as a single, unmarried, woman?!
How did a man with near $200,000, Bankable dollars who has had the ability to with straight-up with cash buying land and having his house built and having his very close family with his two brothers and a sister and so many loving friends, many of those held since grammar school, how could a man such as this man go from “I do” to having no body, no family, no friends, being $230,000 into debt and having to sign over the home he had built and having, now, to having to sign it over to her ex-husband all so you could have a roof kept over the heads of those you see as the only family you have left in this world. All of this has been done to this man, to a good man, all within 5 years 6 months 19 days; I also found even more way more deepening financial troubles down the road for him. I also found a fourth bankruptcy court case set in 2014 in Joe’s name for a foreclosure; a case on the house he no-longer even owns and he hasn’t owned one percent of it since May 11th. 1999?! How this could be done, is for the life of me, I do not understand??? At this point in time, this man is well over a half a million dollars in debt?!

In late September of 2019, I mailed him an Acknowledgment of Paternity form with the DNA testing office information to my son’s father so he could have all the test-work done. Then in November, I went down to see him after I had my book published; I gave him a copy; this is the first time I spoken to this man in decades. I wanted to tell him all that I learned about her and find-out what the hell was going on straight from him; but, I couldn’t. When I saw a medical-contraption strapped onto his chest, attached to his heart?! I just told him he needed to come home where he belongs. Joe said to me he had nothing to give to the boy?! I told him, I already knew that but I’ll be here to take care of him in any way he needs.
He said, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t;” I made bad choices.” He tells me, now, he could never leave from where he’s living no matter… his words,” No choice.” He seemed frightened. I couldn’t tell or question him i couldn't say anything further about anything knowing his health was so uncertain.
After his surgery, while he was still in recovery, we were talking on the phone with when he saw them coming down the hall; He said, “My family’s here and he hung-up. Time passed, he was out the hospital, I tried calling him but when I dialed his phone it said the number has been disconnected?!
On February 23, 2020, at 6:33 pm. there was a message I found which was sent on my face-book account it was sent this woman saying, “…happy he will be where he should have many years ago. It’s time he’s yours.”
I waited a while and asked a family member and I was told his phone number hasn’t changed?! Calling from a different phone he picks-up but as he hears my voice the phone went click.

Looking into his so-called wife’s actions, I seen markers of illegal activities far beyond those I thought I would. Beside his home this man’s name was attached to many homes not only in his town but on his block?!  It wasn’t as if he owned all of block 44 of his town nor has the paperwork to these lots make it into a true-file at their County Clerk’s office; one of the most important functions of a County Clerk’s office is the recording of all the legal documents associated with the properties and during the time his name was on his deed 22 files which were claimed filed but had no paperwork to show… whole files were missing from records and this wasn’t happening prior to his arrival to these town nor any time after signing away his house to her first husband?! I had also found this woman and her first husband have been living well beyond their means; they’ve been traveling on multiannual cruises together and they’ve even been paying for others to go traveling with them. The first husband himself is the owner of two rather large sized boats and both of them have been jetting-setting off on many out of town trips together all year long, leaving Joe to stay as the caretaker for her two children; this woman’s first husband is a. retired, Riker’s corrections officer and he’s not a man from a family of financial means?!

I started gathering the names of the others on these filings where Joe’s name appeared, I found they’re all of people living on that 44 block, all of them; and her first husband’s name was also in on this list 2 times, twice, before he was ever signed over onto this house, before and without, any file to show?! His name on 3/2/99 and 5/11/99; she had his house signed over her first husband on that day, Happy Mother’s Day?! Then, I looked up first husband’s name on the property and found a third empty file posted for a SUPERIOR MORTGAGE also being filed on 5/11/99

Those words after his surgery, “My family’s here…” was eating me up inside.

I see all this as well as knowing the idea of his needing to have even more surgery and knowing just what it took for her to get this man in the first place by September 23th. 2020 I was beyond the ability to say nothing anymore until his health was better; I called him up from my landline and told him just what she had tried to do back in 1991; how this female inside a little beige hatchback tried to run over my child and he calls her his family; I let him know just how much it was she who was interfering with our relationship back then; I knew she was right there hearing everything I was telling him, I didn’t give a care about it; But, I didn’t want to let her know everything I have learned about how it is that he’s not owning his house anymore. He told me he’ll be in touch with me… and we ended our call. On October 1,2020  while researching and printing out more information on just how I think this female ,Puttana, did what she did… I came across this new file in his name?! It was for a UCC1!? What? How could he be filing this without holding ownership on this house? I began looking into and watching files on this company; from that day ‘til after I hired Dale Yeager, there has been 23 files from this company for UCC1’s for block 44 alone and only four others within their whole township?! 23 out of 27 and 23 all from on the same block, nothing off about that and one of those names are of a man who’s not even a property owner and has not been one in 21 yrs.?! I did make a much wider search on this company itself but we’re only looking at this Joe’s block here and now. This company began showing files here for this whole town back in 2019 and to date they have filed only 40 files all together in this town and 30 of them are from block 44 and, FYI, only seven files were from before 10/01/2020 Dale Yeager says there is nothing off???
I also began seeing other things as well; I began seeing mortgage flipping going on here, where people were selling and buying their own homes over and over and then they’re paying off those 30 yr. mortgages within 5yrs and many of these even underneath a two years, on a 30 yr. mortgage?! And those people doing this were using the same clearinghouse?! All these are earmarks of money being funneled; this begins just after 1999 and there seems to be a line-up connection to these two’s traveling itinerary. But Dale at the end of his day says there’s nothing there; he wasn’t saying that when I first show these to him.
I hired Dale Yeager CEO of Seraph through bark.com, on April 10th. 2021 It was through an Email titled; It's about Husband-abuse. I gave him all my information and of what it is this investigation was about and I told him I was hiring him to help me to look into Lynn and her first husband; by this point I wasn’t sure if she even ever divorced herself from her first husband and she could have merely tricked everybody in his family as well and it wasn’t just him with that Halloween wedding. I sent Dale two different background checks for each of them; for Lynn, this woman, for,Kevin, her first husband, and for the one who is to believed to be second husband, Joe; … none of these shown marriages or divorcing information. I gave Dale all his family’s information so he could call them all to gather up what information he would need to help Joe; with a long list of everybody’s websites. I hadn’t much to give about the first husband other than his job, where he lived when she was known married to him and the year she married him.  I did have and I gave Dale all of Lynn’s information for where she lived before, It was a complete background back to her grammar school days when she lived on 65th. Street and all her brothers and sister information, I knew her and her family growing up. I was only vague about what I knew on her husband Kevin’s.

When I received Dale’s first report, it was wrong; it was on some man with Joe’s middle name and his last name, it’s not on the first husband’s name at all?! I told Dale the name on this report is wrong and Dale told me that I was wrong??? We argued about this but then Dale says to me it must be an AKA the first husband was using and just push through the questionnaire and it will make sense as the investigation moves along; the second report was on her and even this report had not made any sense to me at all; it was saying that information I know to be positively true was fraudulent; and again Dale tells me I’m not correct and that all his information was checked and was accurate information; his words,”… we have direct access to the records so we can have verified data for you!” I should just get through the questionnaire and it’ll become clear! It was clear to me this man kind of an ***… I grew up knowing about this girl and her family; her parents were friends with my mother and I’ve been inside their house on 65st. as a kid?!  Dale tells me I’m wrong??? And now he’s saying to take info I find and put them into these grid-sheets? It’s busy-work. I asked him again about the first husband’s name not being in the reports. I knew, once I hired an investigator time wouldn’t be on my side because it’ll known fast; I’ve been being monitored ever since my book’s been out and sent Joe those Paternity papers. I had to get the work done fast or they’ll cover their tracks. It’s been eleven days and all I needed most from Dale is of her marital status-proof with these two men everything else of illegal activities I’ve given to Dale in those three full mailers I sent are anywhere near as important?!
I wrote to Dale later that night, I just found out that Lynn and Kevin just returned back from another trip down to Florida, why they or anyone our age would go down there during Spring-Break is anyone’s guess; It worries me to think the kind of danger Joe is in right now... they both have and given Joe Covid; all three have went into hospital?! Joe was sent home as I’ve been told, Lynn maybe back home as of the time I’m writing you this, Dale but as far as for Kevin he was being placed into a room; At least Joe was able to go back home right away with it being a mild case but I would think this will put off his needed surgery for a while. I do hope Kevin makes a full recovery; I’d prefer him in jail than in hell for what the two of them have done to Joe.

On May 8th.6:40pm. Kevin’s dead, he died tonight; this is what I Emailed Dale.
Next morning Dale sends to me, ‘Thank you for this update.’ As cold, as silence itself.
This man is dead and… ‘Thank you for this update.’
I started working harder to gain as much information as I could gather; I fear, now, with Kevin's death Lynn's going to turn all her sights back towards Joe telling him, he's her husband: and, he has a duty to be there for her... by her side.
With Joe not knowing what we’ve been learning about who knows… Now, she's alone, who knows what is going on inside her mind.
I hope we can find and have everything we need very soon.

June 11th. I sent Dale an Email; Hello Dale I'm wondering what's going on with the files I sent you and the work on Kevin? Dale, are you seeing the same as I within those files I sent?  
The same day Dale wrote back…; Theresa; Yes, I am and the data was shared with the team. We are waiting for the financial accounts data. Dale
When next Dale and I spoke it was June 22nd. I sent the third box full of files completely fixed to him.
Email; Hello Dale; I sent you a package you should get it today; Please let me know when you get this; I fixed all the files in a mortgage, discharge, names of party and the block and lot numbers of property’s order. Hope they are useful for you.

Twelve hours later I get an Email; Theresa, I received the package and will review asap. Dale

Next thing I heard from Dale, Mon, Jul 5, 2021 11:15 am; Theresa good morning. Everything we could find and verify is in the last updated report we submitted. The next step is the POA. We will have that to you this week. Dale
This seems off?! The next time from Dale was Tue, Jul 13, 2021 3:00 pm Theresa; attached is the next update please review and email back your answers to our questions. Dale
Now, again Dale sends a report for the wrong person; a person who has my son’s father’s middle name and his last name?! This one also has her first husband’s name on it but Dale said he was sending a POA Report; what happened? At this point I don’t know what to think; I feel as if I’m being placed onto a treadmill?! I don’t have the ability to do this search on Kevin I can’t go any steps further then I already have... I gave Dale everything I could; and I told him this; He says ...Just to do it.
It has been since that night, September 23,2020, I last spoke with Joe; and it’s now been more than 8 months of continuously searching and working on this thing;  and during this I’m finding way more than I ever wanted to know about  what this poor man has had to endure during these past three decades; if only I were a stronger person back then before she got her hooks into him his life would have been so much different than all this...
But as for, Dale Yeager’s actions with this investigation; he has been with complete unprofessionalism, I think he’s a crook.

Unrealistically going ballistic on premature political whistle blowing of missing ballistic missiles.
Rumors round the fickle frowns trickling down around town,
WMD's never found.
Media drowns out our original intent with swayed day-to-day comments about potential evidence or contents of secret documents or undisturbed "security clearancegate".
Still secret and still unclear year-to-date....
our eroded freedoms now appurtenances as consequence.
The missing  missiles long ago hidden or moved like agendas with chess-master finesse.
Citizens chide "You lied!! Confess!"
Behooving you proves nothing in bringing relief to your beliefs,
thieving your freedoms and Commander in Chief.
Lectures on conjecture don't secure a future.
It's almost "Au Revior" american cars and mortgages, hype puts the scarred afar Stars and Stripes Bail Bonds Czars in business.
Meanwhile billions are spent to rebuild the countries invaded without consent.
The Banks are saved but don't repent.
Far enough away to keep my iniquity a bay for today.
I clearly see what is before me, but respond not to my thoughts as I was taught.
Septed in guilt,
wept in filth
kept in tilt
loss is coming,
should have flossed.
The long term costs tossed aside.
Just another day I drive away from the driveway rarely driven to lie longer or lie down somber,
striving for stronger days lost,
feels wrong though.
I still go.
Pay the tolls.
Stop and go.
Fill the daily paying role outside my dreams and goals.
Play generic background music while my soul's on hold waiting for the next available operator.
Just another day, a way to stay alive and not lie down in hunger,
paying for my blunders,
staving off my heart's quiet thunder,
my dreams and wonders.
I still get up. I still go. Bills to pay. Traffic's slow. I mute the radio.

-R. Craig David-Copyright 2007

Dreams of boats and dinosaurs
eschewing everyone
without weapons and rafts;
green, tangled pieces of iron lie
dying
beside rickety picnic tables below.
We’ll likely die here, as well.
In Florida; the hot meridian sun
heating everything.
Our perpetual youth is embodied in
dilapidated buildings
and war memorials.

Past empty,
we walk. Gas stations and burning hotels
all blaring radios or alarm-clocks
set to Spanish polka.
No maids to listen to them here.
Or to turn the sheets and place
chocolates.
The sun laps up the flood now
exposing
rusty iron tools
or fossils.

Maybe blood is like oil or soda
removes wine stains.
Snapping open mortgages is brutal at first
-- like oysters halved and
emptied on a plate.
But they must
stop
hurting, eventually,
after we boil them.

Kaiser's hiccups
/are/
   and \were\
   legendary
and probably
  |will be|

having a little break cleaning the house, after having taken out the garbage, the dustmen always come later than the postman, around 2am, i'm guessing my street is their last point of call... which suits me just fine... the house was almost entirely cleaned, vacuumed, floors wiped with detergent... ugh... **** it... lazy fingers... i opened up my guitar case, the PIECYK (amp) is ******, i still have my first ever acoustic guitar but i'm missing three strings, my electric still has all 6 strings... i'll get some jam out... i haven't practiced in years... i figured: if i can't find a drummer... if i can't find a bass player... try the mandolin outside a girls window once, give up the dream, put a poster of a rock band on my wall... do some art when i'm completely "out of it": drunk... poetry: not a most spectacular art... well: it would be spectacular without all the ******* puritans of form, rhyme and: meter? they call it a meter but not a metre? that's a bit like telling someone you weigh... that's mass in kg multiplied by "X" is... 999.6N... ah... i know... science shoved it's pickled brain into casual talk: the distinction between weight and mass... mass came after weight... weight is still commonly expressed foundation akin to height... but it was a welcome break with my seemingly dead electric guitar... dangled a few jangles and jingles of remembering when i used to play... Silverchair's Shade, Red Hot Chilli Pepper's Under the Bridge... Eric Clapton's Layla... Link Wray's Rumble... Grieg's in the House of the Mountain King...

only today i realised that people are truly lonely...
odd... when i was in my utter depths of despair:
no one came... but who did come? me!
i picked myself up, no one was willing...
but then... coming across a descending /
an ascending choir of song in an empty church
then hearing a great wind disperse the singing:
i did have my technological asset with me...
the hallucination, the, "hallucination" was so potent
that... regardless of putting in my headphones
or not... the singing continued...
it was only when i scuttled and hid beneath
the altar and took the altar cloth off the altar
and covered myself momentarily with it
then starting running around the church like
a headless chicken... i know! i know! i know with
a BURNING I KNOW... if i uttered a word
i would hear the wrong reply!
either a god descending or a devil ascending...
after all... either side has a singing choir...

people are truly lonely...
i'm alone... loneliness is something that
attracts people to me...
i can't stomach loneliness...
for me that's like... the cul de sac of former
extroverts having an orange with no
orange juice to trickle down into a glass:
half full? regardless the optical misnomer of
calling the same glass: same... half empty...
i am more than willing to do this security
job because i get to do some decent work...
like being a chemistry teacher...
it's a great narrative canvas...
i write over what was already talked (over)...
that's how you get to paint by writing...
you're not some Tolstoy's...
no... not some Pavlov's dog trying to wet his appetite
but also sweat... via drooling saliva...
before my shift i had that random conversation
with mother...
she was watching the t.v. adaptation
of Leo Tolstoy's War & Peace and i said to her:
i don't recall having ever read Tolstoy...
he's not like Dostoyevsky, is he?

so we compared: Tolstoy is the writer
of the macro-cosmos... of events that shake nations
and the individuals: "individuals" are sort of:
chess-pieces...
it's the sort of literature of the salon...
Dostoyevsky is a psychologist...
a world war II might be taking place...
but... but... some Heinrich *******is getting dealt
a terrible hand of both luck and fortune...
like i said to my ailing mother:
she half-jokes aligned with giving birth to me
being her crucifixion...
i joke back: maybe if i wasn't born
i would have both my hinds...
i was once called a: hunchback angel by a guy
advocating the advent of the DUB-STEP musical
genre... way before DUB-STEP became bust
and only associated with SKRILLEX
"drop the button buster, beat, blah blah"...

reimagine drunk conversations in a pub...
in a PLOOB... Scouse? i don't know... maybe somehow
someday, maybe...
    ich sehen rot.. ergo: ich aufladung,
i.e. go! i.e. gehen!

people are so lonely, not having read anything of
philosophy...
if i were to learn anything from the sage-father
that my father isn't....
read philosophy when i'm old and clinging ton sanity
with a chance: oops...
*******... death end clue...
what?                        before you're dead...
please leave your nappies alongside the rest
of the remains of you...

i was having a: drinking session with
newly married couple... Irish traveller...
i downed his, my, his, my: whichever pint
long before the closing hours were done...
Frankie... Francesca...
**** me... Matthew Conrad "m.d."

it's called: tunneling!
me what?! a **** was asking me to g back
to her flat to sniff some *******...
smoke some ****....
i'd love to...
        but i need to make my mother
a coffee come 9am...

i never realised people could become so lonely
and when drinking enough become so blatantly obvious
about it...
it took me one night trip to find a fox's corpse
by the side of the street
to subsequently find a skip and some black bin bags
wrap the road-****... walk with it for almost five miles,
stopping off at the house to weigh myself
then me and the carcass...
amassed to about 7kg... a big, healthy *******
of a fox...
when i was picking him up from the pavement
at 5am a man and a woman were eying me up
like: no... not a ******... a shaman...
they should i might be pretending to chop the fox up...
i just didn't want such a beautiful creature,
beautifully dead, serene, lying on the side of the street...
the only burial i gave him was throwing him
into some thorny bushes by a stream...
another time i was playing i-see-you-but-you-don't-see-me
with another fox... sat on a curve and just eyed it...
until a woman passed the fox and me sitting across
the street drinking a beer... WE'RE MEDITATING!
did the fox flinch? nope... the woman walked about a metre
from the fox... ****** didn't flinch...
i was working up to the TOTEM...
it took one afternoon of the door being opened to
my kitchen and me cooking up two curries...
hey presto: BRODY...
that ****** came for leftovers from meals for over a month...
until, he stopped coming...
i'm guessing he was hit by a car...
but... i'm guessing my care for one fox being
somewhat properly buried and another fox coming
to inquire about: what smells so good
is the reason why i have captured such great photographs
of a fox in my garden...

- hmm... date? or after work coworker drinks?
i know that i scribbled in my little notepad
when she went on her Nth visit to the toilet...
my guess is that males have weaker bladder
of the sexes... a SPRINKLE OF SOME MARIJUANA..
i'm waiting for VOLTAGE...
i'm about to hallucinate in ink... burgundy mixing itself
with Bishop Purple...
those first 30 minutes after a sunset...
cycling down the A12 with heavy traffic... reaching the Green
Belt between Romford and Mark's Gate...
breathing through the nose...
Spring is teasing... Spring is teasing with her
oncoming stealth of scents...
the earth is yet again starting to breathe...
first comes the botanical kingdom,
soon after will come the kingdom of the insects...
wait! i have not heard of an angel or a demon
associated with botany! in charge of, say... roses...
too good of a mark for a Saint George with...
or was that St. Stephen...

write like an imitation of ice-skating...
pretend to fall... gain momentum...
think out a thinking of shadow, curb,
night and walking Ninja hey-presto! feline...
think a loudness: think the loudness...
the ***** of a 4 x 4 pedestrian cross
section of Tokyo...
leave your cycling attire on the bed, stinking of you...
watch a female cuddle and curl up to your Lycra
long-shanks for the specific reason: been cycling...
acid on a bicycle... the 1st and the only ever tRIP...

i always wanted to travel to India...
and walk back to England...
i always wanted to do that...
second: if? aha... QUESTION "question" questing onion
quest of an onion... ANSWER:
i swear, i: as it were... as it is... i: as it were:
i of i, i off i, i vs. no-i...
not i vs. not-i: schizoid broo... Brrrrr... BWOOM(B)
***** a-plenty with witches...

fly fly away my little star...
fly fly away my little st'ah... st'ah...
Stachurski! da da da... ditch Z-Detusche:
na minute, na chwile! na jedno
i drugie dingo dingo!

Lord of the Mushroom!
and mushy peas... and... dhal...
Lord... Bel
              פִּטרִיָה               (Be-EL)

i'm shocked that the gnostics didn't...
to be honest? what was missing in Hinduism?!
what was missing in Hinduism?!
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

oh yeah... that's a Satanic laugh that is...
a laugh that makes the existence of soul viable...
it is a glowing...
when one internalizes laughter with eureka
and mixes it up with stage-fright and a "hate"
for the sound of one's voice...
but then from time to time...
one is caught singing while doing chores and finds
one's voice appealing to be given song
rather than words to speak or write...

but not even in Egyptian mythology...
it was coming! it was ******* coming home!
the botanical godhead...
in the pantheon was missing!
was missing in the pantheon!
the

פ
P / PH / F (greek sidelined, referee: TH)eta
ט
T
ר
R(esh)
י
    YOD: first son of Yiddish: YON... by a boy named
YON...                  a

      e                                               i
                            Λ
                            Y                                  (LY)HH
    
                  o                       y

ה
hello friend: vowel catcher and laughter generator ...
ה not Π... that one connecting letter: ח

hmm: older than capitalism and communism,
but to simply the problem up:
capitalism is the lion
and everything English...
capitalism is the bear
and everything Russian...
vice versa for communism...
the English bred their mythos on the superiority
of a lion and... a unicorn... more a Celtic, Scottish... thing...
the Russians on... a union with the bear...
the bear and the two headed eagle: ergo:
another unicorn...
like the Srbs... serbs... two headed eagle?
the Soviet downfall with the two-headed eagles
of Chernobyl?
       ******: moi... i seriously sometimes forget
my own ethnicity i'm so caught up in English
metropolitan... cosmopolitanism...
      the Global City-Free-States... CITIES AS STATES...
very imaginable...

not City-States... rather... on the global connectivity
project?
what Dinosaur what meteor?
what super-volcano what Yellowstone
what man?
  it's a bit like Pompeii...
give the worlds greatest party and then the volcano
explodes...
better than a meteor: a volcano killed us...
Yella Big Yella...
            the greatest, supposedly no OB-EASE:
into obese...
          ah ah... tongue out... speak! the prolonged A
of neither ah not āh...
                      -
                        2

                                      ****... that's chemistry's notations...
                     2
                  -                                 (huh?!)

the macron over the A... for AAH...
i.e. not an:                                                      ah!

                        á!
                                               A
    
                                   H                        H

           á                                   'ey?!
                                ha ha: key?    hey?!

the burial ground of...
    hmm...
               BEE-EL...
      
PHTRYH: the godhead is that of a mushroom...
people partied to the music of: infected mushroom...
a god is making himself known...
like the false god of H. P. Lovecraft
horror-imago: Nyarlathotep...

precisely! what vowels!
PH or P or F?
   two H's emerged... a good sign that it's PH
for aesthetic reasons...
scribbling this down...
i feel like i'm actually left-handed...
a diametrical opposition to the stasis-enforced
gravity of nothing falling: everything sitting...

ph(aeiou)t(aioue)r(aouei)y(aueio)h(aeiou)

if insects can be allowed the dimension of godly
creatures: thousand blessings on the head!
the lion's head the eagle...
emblem of the Volk of the Volcano:
a Mushroom-Head...
                    
toilet... ah... welcome relief... the water is running...
running...
hmm... from a top... otherwise flowing...
if...
lake: mirror imitation, Lake Narcissus and
his brother Sea Samael: Death...
     like absinthe before adding water like it
was milk...
the water is in tide: with tide: use the FORCE...
tide...
   like water found the force... the force:
with force water found gravity via tide...
earth found gravity with the quake
fire found gravity with the sparkle of the stars...
fire... charcoal peered at night at the already
lighted... as he admired the lightning with fear...
no lightning ever warmed...
comforts of a distant home... fire found gravity
envying the stars... Prometheus who?
and the brothers of Gaia?
Fero...
                fire...
                              AQ... the water brother...
ah... forgot about the younger sister:
AIA...              air...

what a weird ******* date, coworker after shift drinking...
i've never been on a date with a lesbian...
i felt... TESTED... we watched almost the entire match
Chelsea women vs. Tottenham Women Hotbras...
coming close to the end of the shift she asked
if i wanted to go drinking...
sure... why not...

            hmm... it became a date... after she bought the two
rounds i paid for on our previous encounter
when we actually went ice-skating and i became
a local internet sensation for teaching seagulls how to fly:
wearing ice-skates, frozen lake: fly fly!

so we start... the pub is getting busy...
it feels worse than a strip-club...
at least in a strip-club most people are naked
and people get to wear imaginary masks...
in a pub? **** me...
people are dressed up and are made to wear
imaginary clothing! ha ha!
masks?! what masks... a LIE is 10 masks... one lie equals
10 masks... because a lie concerning
the body of soul... is accented with more than
a physical imprint...
LIE MASK AS IF PRETEND SUPPOSE SO
AS IF AS SO CALL IT QUITS
ACTING

it felt like a date... she was getting all nervy...
going to the toilet... checking her phone all the time...
i was patient, smart girl, while i was pretending to
opt out from her OCD... check the phone...
check the fridge-freezer... check your opt out
capacity for a TV license...

how do you go out on a date with a lesbian?
neither you nor her are advocating for woke talking points...
about pronouns or... Furry? listen...
she talks to me about getting FIFA '22...
i finished gaming off at PS1 and reliving the golden days
by re-watching the walkthroughs of
MGS2 (metal gear solid 2)...

because? movies are ****...
i don't want to want these women...
i want... a ******* canoe and a ******* paddle!
and a grizzly bear cub to cuddle and a birch tree to cuddle!

MUFFA!
YEROYI... AHMADI-DEM-BASHAI
YAMSH'EH GIBYT!
VAZOL: OCH TIBI IM PEO-OM-KATA
ES O I TOBOM.

no language suddenly praise with the rigidity of
continuation...
i'll be honest... what do i need a woman for?
to get old, get a haircut... buy food...
not watch the sunrise or the sunset...
instead watch the news on t.v. watch the t.v.
not watch the aquarium?
don't own an aquarium?

own a car but don't own a bicycle?!
in London...
it was 2: so nie to know you: snooze:
represented by letter Z or 2...
if 5 is S and 6 is b...

                     the marriage of letters
to numbers... numbers? meaningless...
absolutely... meaningless...
199 KILOGRAMS
200 CENIMETRES
X contra "x"...

        dead-weight marrying
      1 + 1 + 1 = 3
when marrying
o + n + e = one...
              ah! but 3 and one are different!
former? the forever unit...
latter? the splinter, E3...
forever question...

               turn 3 into omega...
when sharpen it up for a SH... hide the H...
wake up the Z... hide the Z
emerge with a v above an
                           S

call it crown....

     - so Francesca asked me to go drinking again:
again a date doesn't feel like a date...
am i supposed to know about the plethora of female
sexuality?
         **** McDonald one day...
   straight out of Orange is the New Black the next?
just for drinks... i thought we would equal out the tab
on who paid for what previously...
went into the pub at around 20:30 came out around
00:15... we watched the females' football league...
her team, Chelsea beat Tottenham at the Leyton Orient
ground: no plague of parakeets...
honestly: hand on my heart and one on my ear
standing naked before four mirrors:
i did not hear about wild parakeets... parakeets
in general since: only since i worked the Craven Cottage
shifts... Bishop's Park was full of them!
there were no wild parakeets in Essex... not that i know of...
i once listed down all the birds
i could see from my garden...
seagulls, kestrels, two hawks battling in the air,
woodland pigeons, urban pigeons,
crows, magpies, sparrows, swallows,
robins, blackbirds, Canadian geese (migrating),
mallard ducks (also migrating), swans (migrating ditto)...
but sure as **** no parakeets!

in that session i bought only 1 round...
she was hungry so she ordered food...
three plates of food...
fried wings with two sauces...
a bowl of cheesy fries with strips of bacon
and a bowl of popcorn chicken which
i first thought was: battered and deep-friend
mozzarella nuggets...
i had three things... showing off my eating skills...
my grandparents never used to eat
the cartilage and the best meaty bits
off of the chicken legs, drumsticks or wings...
i went a step further...
a bit like eating a whole apple... including the core...
aa magic trick of eating:
you begin with holding something in your hand...
then it disappears completely...
holding an apple, whole, and eating it whole...
subsequently is a bit like playing with a top hat
imagining red eyed albino bunnies, from Albania
(albino >< Albania).. clash of borrowed letters
but two completely different meanings...

etymologically: Albania: land of the Albinos:
Albanios? more like a he, noun...
a mountain, a he...
                 a lake: he and she... neither, always:
if reading English like a native
of the tongue...
                        Albatross from Albanions...
poetry borrowed from a dictionary, rigid function:
hiding the rhyme
exposing the etymological "rhyme".
Alba-
                                      white...
a dyslexic meets a Daltonist in Dover..
the dyslexic arguments are along the lines of:
Dawid Bovie... dead... pish-poor shapes to be be
before huddling out the grave
for a Madame Tussauds pose and a quick nap
and not asking for
a Doppelganger like Sisyphus without a stone
but the equivalent worth of the stone
in pebbles...

    i would be a fair god...
if i'm willing to give birth to an angel of the Botanical realm
since there's the Lord of the Flies... Beelzebub..
and there's the Lord of the Mosquitos: Jesus "sacred heart"
reincarnated by Jungian inspection
a literal: MOTHER... ******...
Chirst...
                      it's not enough to play the pig's blanket
and pretend a crucifix is a ***** and in dire need of being
used by a ******* according
to Marquis de Sade...
Phateroyah...
                     obviously the vowels will change...
with vowels like water and consonants like earth...
punctuation is like air... punctuation and a physical
representation of writing: nothing ethereal,
nothing metaphysical... writing with expression
on our faces... writing as something less and less
a claustrophobic or its implosion: to an effect...
writing less about an extension of thinking...
in the Cartesian dynamic:
res extensa: via writing, alternatively:
if one were to be prone to smoking enough marijuana:
auditory hallucinations... writing is
by definition the same variant of the EXTENDED classification
as a schizophrenic's auditory hallucination...
the former just forces it upon others...
the latter is unwarranted access to a corrupted ego...
a hurt ego...
an ego without the capacity to imagine,
to dream, to digress...

i showed her how to eat chicken proper...
i ate three wings, two chips avoiding the bacon and cheese,
and about three popcorn nuggets...
i forgot myself: once all the cartilage on the bones
was cleaned off... i went in to bite into the bones...
the ends are sort of soft and marshmallow-almost...
not in texture... in my reimagining:

reimagining - hmm... Kant...
         remembering...
a prior... remembering...
   a posteriori: reimagining...

if a crime happens we don't have an a priori remembering
tactic... ingesting the realm of a prior
with memory... remembering...
that's what we do...
what came before 5? S? or !!!!! five exclamation marks?
or? >>>>> five more-than signs?
did 5 come before five?
did words spawn numbers
or did numbers spawn words?
clearly they're not identical...
and they operate two different realms...

we have words for numbers...
as we have numbers that are also letters...
but numbers are not words...
even 3.14159....
                   is not a word, but a letter: Pi i.e. P...
it's not a word... it's at best a letter...
i'm thinking the gods are words and the angels
are letters...
  while the anti-gods are constants
and their "angels" are numbers...

constants?
                         3.14159..... is not a constant... it's a freak of O...
a circle... and a whole mythology of the Wheel...
O... ****** VENUS...
  phallus... the egg... Oh and 0ero         Z: zed extended
via snooze: zzzzz... harps and snoring... terrible music...
constants? in numbers as if creating a word?

6.02214076 × 10²³ mol⁻¹

                     Avogardo's: the equilibrium dynamic if
i remember correctly...
today i learned about...
     Jakob Fugger... back in his day worth around
400 billions "x"... who financed the construction
of St. Peter's in Rome...
i now wish i visited Rome instead of Venice...
          i would have had more fun in Rome...
  
(algebra is the reply, letters imitating
numbers... should the inclusion of MOL be a problem)...

i bit off the chicken legs marrow...
she was in the toilet about fifty ******* times, each time,
ordering more drinks...
we came in at 20:30 and left at around 00:30
at one point she was in the toilet and
i just remembered something...
they have this "thing" in Japan... where you pay a stranger
to pretend to be your friend...
i'm not pretending... but conversation is dry...
i try to ask questions: i ask questions,
i hear replies... but i don't hear reciprocating
questions... Mr. Familiar has or had no problems?
people confide in me and yet
whenever i try to confide in them
i'm told to shut up...
oh... i get it... i do...
before i knew it i was this heaven-sent ideal...
i was the strength and they were the weakness...
i see it now more than even...
she can tell me about her abusive past...
her drunk father who kissed her mother with knuckles
instead of lips... how she's a lesbian but also
a butch ******* **** with hands almost as large as mine
and how her daughter was put into care
because "X"...
but my shizophrenia is a "schizophrenia" is...
i wasted my 20s on anti-psychotic drugs and psychiatrists
that i bundled up and threw into a hornets' nest of
******* *****, threesomes (just the one, but one is
the threshold)... prostitutes: you talk more with your
eyes and your hands and your other endings
and your nose than you care to ******* lasso a string
of coherent words together...

my problem? what problems?! exactly...
there's nothing wrong with me: i have no regrets...
i don't need to speak to someone with an endearing
sake of self definition... i can just scribble notes down
and leave them for some yet to be born
****** of petty things...
i can do just that... no wonder i can't open up...
talk about... "me"? that's still packaged goods...
i'm waiting for the morbid call of a biography
postmortem...

it's strange going on a date with a lesbian...
it's not a date it's me going for after-work drinks
with a colleague...
it's me and her eyeing up the same behind the counter:
tight ***, fake eyelashes she can pull off...
her unwashed pink-fading dyed fair:
feminist... it's me telling her a little about my past:
i had long hair before,
i couldn't pull off a Jesus...
i would only grow a beard if i cut my hair...
short...
she's still trying to find me on social media...
god: i love keeping a girl in suspense whether or not
i have any social media presence...
best try it out with a lesbian first...
we talk about dating apps:
i have a knowledge of their existence...
but hardly a knowledge that might demand
the pressures of: USAGE...

i end up drinking the night away with a revelation...
i was eyeing these two pairs of love birds for some time...

when i was at the Ol' "John's" taking
a whizz... this Greek version of Freak... o.k. o.k.,
ETHAN ROARK type... balding on the top
of the cranium, allows his hair to grow long...
didn't you know...
Garry Glitter was released... he's already
been harangued by the ******* "police"....

what like Batman did a "forever"?
          
   i get paedophiles doing a second jester runner
with meeting up with underage:
sorry... not boring enough?
it's like pretending to be a mandible,
aerobic classed agility with
a prosthetic... that's what ******* a teenage girl
might feel like:
i rather run with deer....
or charm a fox into becoming my totem...
should i be reincarnated what might i come back as?
i'm not banking: i'm saying: fuchs!
fox! LIS!
if i were to freely roam the prance-lands of Essex
as a fox... that's me, done and dusted...

but i wouldn't inhibit a man willing to repent...
after all: if no forgiveness?
the Muslims were right: no crucifixion took place...
did it?
a 78 year old can be given a heave's sake....
life's fruition and that's done...
sorry for the hurt parties... living their:
adamantly purposive lives
with the weight of: Abel not dead...
sorry... the story goes... Cain murders you....
you're still live yet:
you're supposed to be dead...

i'm only making excuses for Gary Glitter...
i wouldn't be for...
Ralph Heimans...
                                 it's music and i can't stop
listening to Rock & Roll parts I & II...

**** me: i ended up the night...
she hated ***** accents.. Liverpool-day-john-ion...
part Eirish: skirmish: scoot!
a Swabian swap... an "oops": Ludwig... or was
that Lufthansa...
this girl, a ***** bridge,,. i'd love to add hired
bride...
                  but instead?

Traveller Irish... i was talking to a bridge...
bride...
you want a drinking race?
ejecting the two pairs...
i snuggled down my pint: his pint...
in 3x glugs... i saw a phantom of an opera...
what?she told me she never used social
media before marrying?
why do i need to Afghanistan to find
datable brides? i squeak and wriggle myself
into the CAMPER VAN culture...
Irish travellers... so? i'll drink with them...
i'd drink with a repentant ******* asking:
was it anything like Nabokov prescribed?!

£30 for 3.5grams of ****...
time excavated? 30+ hours...
£120 + £10 for entry for an hour with a *******...
well... i'd love to prove my masculinity
with having a competing:
hopeless: always alive sort of battery life:
kept up: *******...
but even i think *** is primarily a dosage of
insect desires...
mammals like us sometimes
tend to play games to escape the pressures
of ***...
requested: what? getting my beard trimmed
or getting my underwear "lost" or my ******* "trimmed"?

i get it... ******* are people who are not afforded
a chance to compensate...
relieve themselves through the shared
antics of (shared) grief...
just like Jesus Christ once crucified can't be
resurrected! n'est ce pas?!
what if... the ******* can be left alone...
in his freedom and a freedom-sickly-cage...
what if?!

a bit like saying:
but i can't be anti-racist...
i can be a non-racist...
but i can't be: anti-racist...
                    there are humans either side of
the "argument"...

one mighty argument of goo after another...
inverting the whole dynamic of dates...
seen your face for over a year...
now i heard your voice: your soul...
you heard me laughter...

a naked table, a naked chair...
a dressed table, a dressed chair,
a lightbulb with a cloche...
rigid Slavic KLOSZ...
walls: brick or slab...
naked... wallpaper slapped on...

   how did that "date" end up?
i was speaking to Irish Travellers...
the ****** types... caravan dwellers...
with the girl... snogging before
ordering a pint....
how she was Lady Margaret all pristine
didn't drink or use social media
before getting married...
i was chasing pints...
race: 3x glugs down...
  i out-chased him...

the pub was closing, we wanted the people out...
strange so, talking to this Irish Traveller Lassie,
most settled people with mortgages or
council houses, flats... avoid speaking to Irish Travellers...
but the revelations she uttered...
i might as well been talking to a Muslim girl...
by her account...
she didn't start drinking before she was married...
she didn't use social media,
she said that in the travellers' community having
a social media account is a bit like *******...
hell: i think it's much worse...
fair play to the capitalistic system...
but social media is what it is...
         it has marketed our private-lives...
not written as a complaint...
                        i allowed for that to happen...
willingly...
now i can't simply walk away from the gallery...
i still don't know what to do with it
instead of making if a reference point akin to:
the red and the amber and the green
of traffic lights...
the "system" wasn't going to capitalise on the market
of my dating preferences and ****** encounters...
sure... i don't mind a public "dear diary"...
a place to store links to music videos when i forget
to add them to my browser's bookmarks:
because i've probably added the same song twice...

but Kant has been bothering me...
ever since i wrote:
a priori remembering
    and a posteriori reimagining...
why do i think that it's impossible
to a priori reimagine?
              
i need to go back to the rubric
and try to burn it into my head like the alphabet
was burned into my mind once...
one of the following four
is impossible:
    with the simplest expression for each:

(analytical) a priori                             (analytical) a posteriori
1 + 1 =2                                                   not every man is a ******
wrong!                                                   some men are
that's synthetic a priori!
+, /, £

(synthetic) a priori                               (synthetic) a posteriori
1 + 1 = 2                                                   £: money makes monkey
i synthesised these                                either that shaman
numbers...                                              mushroom on an ant's
analysed what prior?                            buttocks or:
the increasing number                          the botanical "anomaly"
the added, subtracted,                        money is: asexuality it's
multiplied,                                              what if Adam gave Eve
by god sq. rooted?!                              her first un-earned banknote...
1, 2, 3, 4...                                              spend freely! not having
                                                                earned it!
                                                               what if Eden and the apple
                                                                are wholly outdated
                                                                metaphors?

hmm...

the first £10 she got? was that money earned or money freely
given? was she handed down an allowance or
her first earnings? the trickling down idea follows suit:
if her father gave her money for free... for completing "chores"...
if he gave her an allowance: worse still...
without chores...
why wouldn't expect the sane fir passable:
future partners: daddy day-care "hoes"...
                           my daddy this, my daddy that...
HUBBY no. 2... give give...
i drink less... i smoke some marijuana
and i remember that i read some philosophy...
no new grounding since Wittgenstein
gobbled down Spinoza in a ferocious
of homosexual madness of jealousy...
misunderstood by at least 4 parties...

*** and women unplugged...
some of us boys are playing a game of Alchemy...
solid silver, liquid silver...
i guess plastics are gassy silver...
***... can i please assume there might be
two mouths breathing?

I ate your breath before you ate the apple...
i ate your breath while you gauged
my eyes and saw milk in your *******...

in the labyrinth of: i sigh...
i'm to your bidding bound, sire...
i ate your breath long before you might have ate...
that fruit of autumn, fallen, rotten...
fermenting.... this rotten fruit...
no, not plucked from three... ripe and sweet...
rather picked up attired in autumn's clothes:
auburn, over-ripe cinnaamon-brown,
orange and yellow...

you gave me a drunkard's bear or ilk!
male deer! you gave me a drunkard's apple!
i might be stumbling:
but i'm still chiming with the blues!
what Mosad Mandarin faction of
the intelligence community?

   ching-fang-*******-wall'ah-CHANG
wrote a similar (liar) armistice peace-war:
if we can't use this military equipment...
let's, make... ******* movies!
woo yee HA!

Baron astronaut, ergonomic... a house ought
to have two doors: H... a house
ought to have rooms focused upon the dynamic
of Y...
oh **** your woo! woo! glue my ***
of the Tetragrammaton:
i heard it once before:
the Arabs got their pearly and Kentucky bound
Timothy....
while the Hebrews got the paranoia...
windmills in Chelsea, London,
not Kansas... New Lit Bits of Jersey....

i was left aghast... um... i laughed...
i couldn't say the words ****... pairing it up with her voice...

well... according to sources all knowledge a piori
is ANYLYTICAL... but what was i "analysing"
when i was conjuring the letter R or the number Z?
i borrowed the circle from the sun
and the house from the cave?
i must have done so...
i probably conjured the game of rugby from
the sea's tides and yoyo from an egg of a dodo...
and the goal posts from the letter H...
ripples in the water ZigZag and M and W...
cosine as the refined W
and sine as the refined M...

   a parabola confined in a W...
D in do and devil...
God with Dog and: all?! ah!

    i'm not dumb: i just want to extract more from Kant
than people, ever had, toyed with a jihad of had the Hadiths
in a puddle of paper: equaling the refined weight:
of the organic worth of bark? timber: temples of stone
have turned the gods all cold:
about 5 kilograms for a stash of a week's worth of newspapers...

please please don't let me understand myself:
please oh please don't let me understand myself:
when i'm sober and especially when i'm slightly drink...
drunk... drunk... and smoking a bit of ****...
and...

grass is green: after having established that
not everything is grass
and not everything that's grass is green
wheat? grows like grass...
but it's not green...
and it grows taller than grass
and cows and horses don't eat it...

i could watch a thousand movie and listen to a million
songs... i could even manage to love a woman
and her tell me in the cravat adorning mammal skin
caravans... but i'd still go to bed with Kant...


   it's not that difficult but i need to ask myself to burn
this rubric into my mind...
under each the easiest expression: an abstract...
i just can't word it differently:
a priori remembering...
true...
a posteriori reimagining...
also true:
after the fact of seeing a tree...
can i see a tree prior?
ergo? i can't be capable of a priori reimagining...
first i have to see a tree...
but upon seeing the tree i can't reimagine it...
therefore i can only reimagine what comes after seeing it...
how do i practice a priori remembering?
on the most practical level...
i remember 1 + 1 = 2...
history and memory...
sure... but what of history as epistemology?
as a child i'm not really taught that 1 + 1 = 2...
knowledge and 1 + 1 = 11... not "somehow" just by
"coincidence" of the missed meaning of the cipher +,

epistemology and etymology are the only
two branches that should be given access to the study
of history...

reimagining a tree is impossible in that it's a realm
of geometric abstractions that borrow from
geometric orthodoxy and render them useful:
a tree is a home, i can, reimagine a tree...
if i reimagine myself as a bird or a monkey
perched in a tree... reimagining the roof...
via the sky... but that's hardly likely,
mountain and cave dwelling: home...
a prior reimagining is in its own right something...
but reimagining resulted in the dimension
of a posteriori...
i reimagine a tree and make it: a talking tree...
i apply pareidolia...
or like with clouds... those favourites...
why would i reimagine clouds a priori?
i can... but then that would imply reimagining
cauliflowers... or rather: clouds remind me of
cauliflowers: but that's not reimagining either
clouds or cauliflowers: it's remembering what each
looks like and why, subjectively i remember:
that i think they're alike...

hmm... proof: no pudding....
clearest blue...
          or solid green... the Jade from China...
XINY X= CH
we can apply the letter X in our tongue...
that's what marijuana morphs:
the perception of time... 10 minutes already
feel like an hour....
xolera... cholera H! hhhh...
                 xorwat - croat...
                   xemia - chemistry....
chmiel: xmiel:
                              toad breath!
the stuff i sniff up before going to bed!
you ******* DYSLEXIC...

choroba: xoroba...
sickness...

  DYSLEHIC...
                   i'm asking for upgrades...
i hope my upgrades are not too: demanding...
i'm asking... i'm asking...
i'm getting **** all...
well then... best not become a priest
and conjure up what i might need...
i may need this that and the other...
Hebrew...
i'll need the vowel hiding prerogative
to be minded... i'll need Kant..
punctuation marks and numbers....
most certainly letters...
plus akin to comma....

                                 if still alive: i'll lso require death...

chwila: xwila: a fleeting moment...
lapsed timing...
           c H-A
arecz: samo-H-ah...
                  nie na xixota.... śpiew
raptem: tak! ha! ha! aha!

daj znać gdy ty i ja,
tak nagle żyją... i nie... o tak!
i mihght have a Frenchman's heart
to want: Romance after news of
a hereafter..
the moon is blue
the sun is bronze...
the air is milky in the morning...
the water is traffic and there's no
traffic... i'd like death before the explaining mantra:
what's worth a life: squid parody on... ******* skates?!

the love of the gods is doubly insulating...
first they try to demolish you: one ******* fatal claim after another...
the they employ women... they too... *******.. fail...
what are you rounding up against, you?!
sails without winds and no boats to sail with,
the supposed... great artefacts of claiming
the winds!

i once sat alone in a park... hair growing freely....
i had no addition of a face with the addition of hair...
i had no beard, not stubble...
the wind was and my long hair was
and there was, no war, no famine...
there was only dancing and twice reading
into a Charles Dickens...

twice: a rereading a text not available
for journalistic imprints of:
that satisficed mantra of derailing:
expectations of the meddling-ground....

oh well: oh nothing...
oh riddle me some more: nothing...
life is cheap: buy it bought!
sell it sold!
       earn it not living (it); earning it!
ergo: "living"... and (existentialism)...

   a king's frown is a beggar's stomach...
money makes money:
onions grow on trees!

giving birth to the son of Mammon
was... not... hard?
seriously?!
                          thank god i'm twisted in my own
sort of superstitious way...
when there's talk of a birth of an angel...
my ****** demands become joke...
i forget something, and within the confines
of something: almost: everything...

save180:

p'oh tay t'oh
but not
toe-may-toe
that's not
t'oh may t'oh
but...
t'oh m'ah t'oh

         if only it was a p'oh t'ah toe t'oh.

And then one day I just loved you
I looked at you and it all came together
I saw us
as old people
having made it through so many trials but still holding on
It was the first time I had ever looked at a man
and saw the future version of him
all old
hairy
wrinkly
and fat
and LOVED him
I knew this old man had hurt me
probably had an affair or two
but I still loved him
I knew that we had suffered major grief
maybe there was a child lost
but I still loved him
We had survived babies
mortgages
and putting kids through college
We probably both had times
where we were so distant from each other
that hope was momentarily lost
but I still loved him
I saw this old man and all his imperfections
and me
old with all my imperfections
and I still loved us
And that is love
To know that this person will deeply hurt you
and you will deeply hurt them
and you see yourself loving them through it all
Even after you get bored with the ***
and you or they get fat
lose hair
or manufacture an abundance of nose hair
you still want them at your side
through thick and thin
That is love.

I built a fire and burned the baggage you left behind
I packed it up in a warm smoldering smokey haze

                                         Divorce records with the  ex wife
                                         Joint taxes, private school bills
                                        Mortgages, foreclosure credit debt
                                        Child support and EDD claims

        
Photos of happier times placed neatly on the shelf in my closet
Air Force jacket and duffel bag tucked in corner safe
Waiting for their owner to pick them up
I would send them but I have no idea where you are
I should burn it all, but it hurts to think that way
All those years of love notes
Buried in a plethora
Of blue stripes white and yellow
College ruled and blank notebooks
Randomly ambushing memories
When very least expecting.
*The only way around these things is through them

Notice how the whisper dies
When strangers near a gathered few,
How laughter dwindles in the air
Where yesterday, free breezes blew.
Our public forums disappear
Like dominoes, they fall in turn
And each in turn consumes a truth,
Like ******* in a flame they burn.

And everyone’s opinion fades
As nervous glances flit the room,
A menace in the silence felt
As whispers hush, suspicion looms.
The banks call in the mortgages,
The Cops demanding hard
The language of the press subdued
And every one’s on guard.

And the failing economies
Across the whole globe,
And contrived **** happening
With oil price hikes disrobed.
Grinning cartel monopolies
Who manipulate fare
To cause catastrophic collapse
In the market elsewhere.

Government’s tone has altered
From homilies of home,
(God bless our land & honour the flag)
To harsh Corporate drone.
Big Money’s in the mix you see,
Pharmaceuticals and Big Oil
And the Military have the casting vote
In cashing up the spoils.

How has it all come to this ?
Where have our freedoms fled ?
If they ever really did exist
Were they... only in my head ?
Restricted private ownership
With travelling curtailed,
And the information black out
Shows the freedom press have failed.

But the repetitious broadcasts
Which they want us all to hear,
And the droll propaganda
Which confuses the  ear,
Those brainwashing dogma’s
Which stifle the mind,
Oppressing the rational
To keep we souls aligned.

Why, my friend,
On this bright summer’s day
Should my heart be bleeding
It’s freedoms away ?
Who sanctioned oppression,
Who opened the gate,
To admit the dark forces
Who thrive on the hate ?


Marshalg
Feeling the vibe of what is beginning out there...EVERYWHERE!
AUCKLAND
20 February 2011

westerners: we're basically the people with a big bang theory in our heads (what a ****** name for what used to be an awe-inspiring venture into the natural environment and colours, now just a black dot, no wonder the imagination dried-up at the end of the 20th century and it all became, "a little bit technical" / technology perfected the making of money / no -logy attache with art, the feel got the most of it), and having to still perform menial tasks, most of which became anti-physical, exports to China - an intellectual flatline of bureaucratic esteems, preferably lost among scientific theories that demean, devour and conspire to reach pinnacles of overstretched pronoun usage... too many nouns, too many nouns, there are to many names in this world that gather inert verbs around them - say the word aeroplane and i bet you won't end up being a pilot, able to fly the **** thing from London to Helsinki.*

i just realised i can't do it - applying
poetry to historical prose is exhausting -
the project has been terminated -
it's like two-hydrogen atoms coupled
to an oxygen atom defining the Atlantic,
the Pacific and a few lakes in between -
how can a single human being
encapsulate all that history? i don't
mind people spying on me, i know
spying is a form of fetishism, but trying
to encapsulate all that history in one
unit is counter-productive, non-representative,
i stopped on page 55, i didn't even get to
Greek history - what i love about all
that philosophical bollocking is that it's
airy, a modern arts gallery - you can fudge
in an elephant in there and people would say
that it's the five-blind men - or the sixth
deaf man, given the odd trumpet sound -
history literally does exhaust poetry the
easiest, philosophy at least antagonises it,
it's on the same playing field, both are in tune,
however well or however badly the strummed
guitar / ego - if i was going to sift through
another ******* of historical facts predating
antagonistic history like the events of
the Cold War or the horrendous disintegration
of Yugoslavia (Gorbachev was rightly
pompous to the end, the Soviets went their
separate ways peacefully, now Azerbaijan
sponsors the Euro football tournament) -
but if i were to shove all that **** into my head...
you know where Alzheimer's stems from?
i think i know - too much information,
too much information canvased against
easy, menial tasks... if they only taught us how
to not feel bored, instead of ******* us with
Pythagoras and calculus and whether it was
Newton or Leibniz who finished the finishing line
first... education in the West is a fool's game,
it's like that fable about giving an African
a fish or a fishing rod - they sell this **** in
Calcutta - me? i'm selling you a pirate copy,
don't bother - don't even go to university,
they'll turn you into a double-*** that you already
are, professional academics are not high school
teachers, they're the ones in line with ambitious
Higgs' boson, oh sure, Mr. Blair and that famous
'education, education, education,'
how about go **** yourself, go **** yourself,
go **** yourself?
the educated are in debt and the common
sense people,
well, they're also in debt - mortgages and what
not, but when i think about it...
i'd be earning super money to spend it... on what?
if  had children, fair enough,
the grand selfless act - maybe... erm...
never trust a female politician because she ends
up a tarantula, a black widow, caring for her own
rather than the ***** masturbated into a hanky?
listen, if you had a woman try to ****
you via your childhood friend... you wouldn't be
Kentucky frying chocolate bars to mush and
lovey hubby dub dub either.

Styx and Stones

Styx and Stones, can break your bones,
they can leave you with cuts and bruises
a broken heart, can go on and on
it's sad, when somebody loses

the things that they love,
the things that define them,
the things so dear to their heart
they fill you with lies,
right in front of you eyes,
they think they're so **** smart

porcupine quills, over-due bills,
are more things that can give you pain
but a stab in the back, or hung on the rack,
will leave more than a mark or a stain

smiles from heaven above,
smiles from the one you love,
smiles from a complete stranger
kisses in a dish,
kisses when you wish,
look for warnings of danger

Styx and Stones, mortgages and loans,
the fat cats are still getting fatter
they scoff and pretend, they've been honest to the end,
while sneaking a bun off your platter

Gomer LePoet

Once again
the sound of magpies
hunting fills my head with
images of daylight

and picnics we took
under ash trees
on top of itchy
blankets

I know you only read
those books for me

to make me feel
safe in having something
to say when the conversations
turned to salaries and
mortgages

or maybe that's
unkind. Maybe you
just wanted to understand
me better

when the four ninety-nine
red wine reaches me
I taking about the poems
I'm writing

grape glazed eyes
stare, squinting through
the sun, trying not to
smile. They move on

when we are alone
again we still pretend
I lie about the friends
I met for coffee and
you tell me that I look
beautiful

I wonder if you know
the way we sleep

I hope not

and that you'll never ask
why I crawl out of the
sheets when sleep has
taken you

I sleep on the floor
and slip back beside you
just before you
wake

we never mention doctors or pills
and you know not to hug me
too tight

I make tea for both of us
even though we don't drink
it. It's hard to shake
off the words our mothers said
about a cup curing
everything

when the birds are
still, I open the window
and think of flying,
to have a body light enough
to break free of
the mind

I take my first
lungful of air
but you reach out
and hold me
where my wings
should be

(they're broken now)

and I realise I'm not the
only one who pretends
to be asleep

you wrap me up
like old glass
in soft blankets

slip another book
off my bedside table
into your bag

and don't cry
until you've
shut the door

i once said: you can't be an artist and raise a family, and as proven by many who've attempted both feats to make one or the other lacking, if perhaps both - the best example of such a scenario is the much tragic case of james joyce's finnegans wake, his daughter, and the duration of the writing process... paris 1922 - 1939.*

i've never been into love poetry, well, once i too wrote
watermelon mush about heart and longing,
the darkened rooms of my adolescent self,
ugly blue of the wallpaper later covered entirely
with glossy posters of the ones i adored
on the music scene (honestly,
not even a niqab slit of blue to
be seen) - and then i experienced
love, maybe infatuation,
or the rite of passage into carnal
opulence of the woman's shape
untouched by the coarse treatment
of cubism and picasso -
but then the hydra popped her second
head from the torso -
this head and neck started wrapping
itself around the first head, the first
being that of naiveness and inexperience,
the second head of boa, of experience that
knew of jealousy, of feminism sexism
chauvinism, the second head knew all
about the dark ebbing waters of spite
and revenge, and yes of *** too -
and soon enough the hydra's first head
breathed no more, it flopped and
dangled under the torso of the conquering second
soon decayin and falling into an abyss
of heavy shuffling foot-stomps;
but the question is, will a third head
rise and do likewise with the second head,
the head that spells out genuine companionship,
that's mature, even more hardened as to
avenge the naive head of wonder-lust sought and
the paradoxical thirst for the taste of something
it had no place on the tongue palette for
speak about with history's resignation and experience?
but i doubt it, i've seen that head, and it's a head
with many problems and is self-defeatist
in terms of idealising love once more,
it has obligations, chores, children, mortgages,
car insurances and life insurances, fears
from the television at 7pm news blasts on
about jobs, markets, the migrant crisis;
the second head would simply let this third
head look at it in a much quizzical way;
don't get me wrong, i'm all for the third head
of this hydra, but it's too weak for
the first of idealism to re-emerge, with all those
very basic and demanded thrills,
i'm not condemning it, but i'm also not embracing
it - selective promiscuity, a methodological
promiscuity set aside all such hopes -
but let's say less promiscuity, and more chance
opportunism - no, not the adventure seeking
casanova type.

I'm a young man in the spring,
Looking forward to anything...everything;
Undaunted in the offerings.
Nothing's too demanding,
What's out of reach is possible:
If I lift my arms I can fly,
Open my mouth I sing,
Close my eyes, I paint;
Reach out and envelope
What others too soon reject.
It's the spring of my year,
And summer's coming on.

I'm a thirty-something in summer.
Disappointments and expectations abound
Under a cloud-split sunny sky.
I can flap my arms, looking chicken-like,
I'm asked not to sing so loud,
I close my eyes, one at a time,
To read the chart.
My arms are getting full,
But I have room for more.

Autumn comes on my heels.
It's a time for preparation.
Savings, spendings, give-aways
Fill forty years of duty.
Taxes, mortgages, tuition,
Weddings, christenings,
Hellos and goodbyes to the loved.
Winter is coming in off the lake.

Today coincides with the solstice;
The least amount of light,
I can feel it now.
I close my eyes to nap,
I am grounded, well-grounded,
I accompany the singers with a uke,
And lip sync.
I hear every note.
I'm skating again at the arena,
Sugar Shack is playing.

My friend bought a shipping container
for a thousand quid.
He cut some windows and doors
latched with solid hinges
even cut a sun roof
toilet outlets
and drop down bed of metal strips
all so well engineered.

he was the only guy I knew
who sat on his roof to sip his beer
moved his house around from beach
barbecued his pork chops on a drop down
makeshift oven
and slid out of bed when fed
and made love on a hot tin roof!

The storms and gale force winds
passed him by -knowingly
and floods and foundations
did not move him around one inch.
He was a happy man.At times he joked about the fountains
( he actually said funtains!)
that he sometimes got inside in a heavy downpour.

But us idiots
ran to the bank to pay mortgages
and **** up to the manager
when the interest rates hit the roof.

My friend laughed and laughed
while the rest of us cried
working for the bank.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 3 months ago

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11442130-Shipping-Container-by-Marshall-Gass#sthash.Y9Brd3Rm.dpuf­

you always spoke of a brighter future
were you referring to the 9 to 5 jobs?
to the apple pie life
or the romance lacking relationship with your wife?
did you mean the mortgages,
the taxes, or the men with grey hair in grey suits?
the jobs you do just for the money
or the people who speak too much, but are still mute?
did you mean the polluted skies or the cursing taxi drivers?
did you mean the way when she touches you, you feel no fire?
how nothing makes you feel alive
but you’re still not really dead?
how nothing is wrong
but you’re itching to put a bullet through your head?
when you said you were working towards a better future
did you mean a life of monotony, dullness and boredom?
what happened to your love of adventure, of mystery,
to your dreams of martyrdom?

looking back now,
would you take it all back?
would you change the way you did things
fill in the gaps?
or would you continue to oblige to the rules and regulations
would you still mindlessly follow the system?
would you carry on doing what they tell you?
those who bossed you around, would you still be with them?
or would you soar and fly
ask questions, ask why?
would you run in the jungles
and climb the highest mountains
would you swim in the seas
and tell your beloveds that you love them?

we only have one life
and we’re always waiting for it to change
we’re working towards a future
to which we have no claim
live, live, I beg you to live
make mistakes and fall
then get back on your feet
don’t hesitate, take it all
for the future is not ours
and the past is too late
but we have the present
don’t let it go to waste

There's a town somewhere up north off of route 54
It's cheap to live there, but I wouldn't recommend it
It's streets run with greed, ****** and sin
The people there are devoid any sense of ethics
It will leave you all shocked and breathless
Welcome to the neighborhood
Where you board up your windows and doors then double check if they're locked
Where you can always hear some one screaming
"Stop"
"Stop"

The mayor has been in office for six terms
And in his cabinet are members of the mob
Whose fronts are local mom and pops
Where junkies like to hang out
While a mugging of an eighty four year old widow takes place around the block
Welcome to the neighborhood
Where you board up your windows and doors then double check if they're locked
Where you can always hear some one screaming
"Stop"
"Stop"
       -Tommy Johnson

The youth are all in gangs that **** each other
Delinquent dropouts doing drive by's
Defiling untouched regions between innocent women's thighs
Girls making appointments for back alley coat hanger abortions
As some hate group constructs homemade bombs

Welcome to the neighborhood
Where you board up your windows and doors then double check if they're locked
Where you can always hear some one screaming
"Stop"
"Stop"

Diseases and food shortages
Rotten government cheese and unpaid mortgages
Call the department of health and human services
Life here is unbearable mercilessness  

Poverty and violence
Money and bullets keep those who might talk silent
Here it has come down to a simple science
The spineless **** the non-compliant for their defiance and they lay lifeless by the hands of those who commit viscous acts so mindless

Where you board up your windows and doors then double check if they're locked
Where you can always hear some one screaming
"Stop"
"Stop"

You may ask, "where is God or the police?"
They're doing their bi-weekly patrol
And they're both on big brother's private payroll
There is now law and order in this contaminated area
It's an unkempt, repugnant pustule in the middle of the caked-on face of America

Welcome to the neighborhood
Where you board up your windows and doors then double check if they're locked
Where you can always hear some one screaming
"Stop"
"Stop"

Emperor patriarch enemy family
encyclopedia room flamboyance
and the minions of civilization bow
creviced foreheads etched
with hieroglyphic concentration
pantomiming the harmony of
banana splits dripping
on fireplace slippers
woven into the stories
your neighbors greeted you with
from the other side of the hedge

on the night the great comet arced
into our living rooms
and we kissed oh so
TV-like with the laugh track
clapping in time with the sprinklers
cha cha change the diaper ditty
after supper over done
under the influence
and in a fix
me another martini
extra olives
the smell of negligence
on her creamy pampered thighs
and the aromatic evidence
of lawn mower trim
on her teddy
bareness slipping away into comfort

the children wagering battle
plans with a mouse clicking
crayons left in box
cars matched tickets scratched
windows latched
onto
hobo toxic shock n awe
to see abandominiums
littering lots in crackopolis
virtual and simulated
between the in laws
and the outlaws
the grand apparentless routine
on display

could I borrow a toaster
or waffle with your wife
over the last stick of butter
backdoor banter about
Soldier of fortune
your last subscription
to the mercenary position of
the cul de sac coup d’état
taking place in spinning
class conscious of the fourth
estate third world second
generation first born zero
down home subdivisions
of the disenchanted
evening news is on excuse

that the whole thing is fixed
mortgages futures the lottery
tuition and everybody wins
army navy air force marines
corpses floating cross culture
reference guides to prescription
medication of futile society
Jonesing with the keeping
ups and out of product till
prime time reminds us
why we’re all here

waiting for the aliens
to excavate us.

I look back now and can’t see what the rush was all about.

I sometimes wonder if it would have been different for both of us if we’d waited.

I mean, what was the big deal about getting it done before we were legally allowed to. Did it make it more special, more precious, more anything?

It’s kinda sad, the reason I remember it. It’s not because the earth shook or I heard choirs of angels or anything, in truth it was awkward, it was fumbled and it hurt and it didn’t take very long. I just remember it because it was my first.

It’s not that I didn’t love you, as much as a girl three weeks shy of her 16th birthday loves anything, it’s just that I wish it had been more. I wish that we had saved each other until we knew what we were doing and knew what it was all about. But how does that work? How can we save ourselves until we’re better at it without doing it first to know what we’re doing wrong. Or doing right. I just wish we’d done it better so I could remember all those things about it, about you, too.

I think about you sometimes.

I know it’s been nearly 25 years since we last spoke, just because that’s the way life turned out for us. But I wonder where you are and what you’re doing and if your life is everything you wanted it to be. You used to paint such great pictures about what you wanted to do.

Although it was never the same picture twice.

I bet you’re an artist of some kind. Or a professional dreamer, if there is such a thing. It’s a shame we never kept in touch, but probably for the best. School doesn’t go on forever and neither do the lives we had while we were there.

We get grown up lives instead. Lives with mortgages and bills to pay and jobs to do and responsibilities.

You and me, well we belonged to a time before that. A time when our biggest worry was if we’d done our homework. But we shared something that we only get to share once.

And for all that it wasn’t, I’m glad I shared it with you.

By: Cedric McClester

Wall Street execs plundered
Everything in sight
Then the banks went under
That got everyone uptight
There’s something to be said
For experience
But that might well be *******
By judgment and common sense

Things are getting nastier
Than they’ve ever been
But what is it they plan to do
If they want to win

Folks can’t pay their mortgages
Or their grocery bills
They believe in country first
But that won’t cure their ills
Attacking the opposition
Doesn’t provide an answer
That can actually address
This ever-growing cancer

Things are getting nastier
Than they’ve ever been
But what is it they plan to do
If they want to win

One side’s throwing mud
At the camera screen
The other offers no solutions
You know what I mean
Desperation brings out insanity
But it don’t do a thing
For folks like you and me

Things are getting nastier
Than they’ve ever been
But what is it they plan to do
If they want to win

Things are getting nastier
Than they’ve ever been
While suggestions and solutions
Have been paper thin
The question shouldn’t be
Who is he or she
All I want to know
Is what they’ll do for me







Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015.  All rights reserved.

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Please! Wait
Feeling so low
Like his (Blowfish)__ bait?
Jazzzzeeeey
Only temporary Oh! geez
Robin Razzamatazz
What!! All about Love
Candy Pez

((Enter me Expandable))

I need to fish
around so flexible
He
comments
You're quick**

The Vampire Garlic
RIP I have young-blood
I will just relive again
To expedite
what remains
Love unconditionally
All hired with conditions

The restless young
outbreak
Native New Yorker
The busy talker
draw flush
In the Navy
Fleet week Baby
meeting crush

The Quickie
interview
Gift of gab 
 stalker
Or the hermit of Hermits
Languages
No demerits
Racing down
her wicked
thighs shower his
muscles

Sprinkle cone
Iced me
mortgages
get
me sick way to
quick to even sigh
Whats up with
patience
Include the Immigrants
Somehow American
women
Not very productive
They had Robot
watchdog like Gods
The money
where  your Apple

Mouth  I-Yahoo computer
And follow me
All followers
Kevin Quick morning
Bacon
Stallone Rocky

__ Expandable

In the native lands
Over the border
The Ventriloquist
Nesquik
Emigrant exhibitionist
Deviant outsider
The Spy Breadwinner

The I pod doing
the podcast

Outcast lady
The rain in Seattle
Hanky Panky
Snoopy hang on
Aboard love boat
so foreign
Her kitten tongue
was wide open
Eye wide but
quickly minds shut
Did it say?
((Too Quick))

((White Doves)) website
Riders of the Morrison
dorm
Ouija board storm

Him hungry
for her
smorgasbord
  Stars flu

* Planetarium+

Miss Tory friend
Terry's mouth
of Sherry
Met all their lovers
Sweet Cherry wine

In the Sanitarium
Your words are
not to hinder me

Kiss of an angel
You compelled me
Such a coincidence
The spell too quick

No heart of
citizenship
Walk like a man
Talk like a
foreigner real slick
In another land
Dance like an Egyptian
From the Godly land  

No man is
quick enough
To expedite
The quicker man
Beaten by the
bodyguard
No God this is a
Ladies Island

Pulp Fiction absurd
Vanilla milkshake
Saturday Fever
Cons
So many Johns

I stood on the brink of the cliff.
                          And by brink I mean the complete edge.
I could go forward
                         or I could go back.

If I stood here long enough
              maybe the edge would crack.
I'd plummet.
                Or I'd quickly grasp
                 and grab anything
around me to keep from plummeting.

I was on the brink
                                and my mind could not be made up.
                    It made me uncomfortable to think about it.

Do I jump forward?
                                   End it all.
                                   Skydive.
                                   Have a nice fall.
Watch my life like a movie
before I go splat.

Do I step back?
                    Go back to my menial life.
                    A job I can't stand.
                    A wife who gets more
***** than I do.
                    Children who call me
by my first name
                             instead of dad
                             or daddy
                             or father
or any other devotional nonsensical name.
           Taxes,
           mortgages,
           bills,
           *******.

Do I step forward
                               or do I step back?

A large part of me
              keeps imagining and praying
for the edge to crack.

I've always been obsessively indecisive,
I'd always rather leave my life
            up to some mystical force of fate
than make a decision.

Forward or backward?
                                       The brink.
                      The end either way.

It's time you made an actual decision
                   for the first time in your life
                                 I thought to myself.

I placed my foot
                             past the brink.